


The Little Things

by spn_wincest_etc (babybrotherdean)



Series: Prompt Fills [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Kissing, M/M, Top Sam, in which Sam decides to try and categorize all the little things he loves about his brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spn_wincest_etc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s loved Dean since day one- when, according to Dean, anyways, he’d smiled his little toothless baby smile right as soon as Dean held him the first time- but it’s not until more recently that he’s been noticing the little things he likes best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> _Could you done where Sam loves the little cute things about Dean, like his little tummy and his nose, and loves to cuddle him and stuff? It doesn't have to be smut, but if it is, could it be like top!sam being really gentle and careful with Dean?? OMG I just love when they are so careful with each other like they are made of glass ❤️❤️❤️_
> 
>  
> 
> Anonymous prompt. Thank you, anon, because this was absolutely adorable, gah.

Sam’s life is one long blur of inconsistency. He doesn’t have a home besides the car. He’s never stayed at the same school for more than a month (except Stanford. He doesn’t think about those four years very often these days). Everything around him is constantly changing, and shifting, and not quite settling down.

But the one thing that’s never changed, the one thing that’s been there since day one, is how goddamn much he loves his brother. 

It’s evolved over the years, of course. They didn’t start out the way they are now, sharing a bed and kissing each other good morning and holding hands when they aren’t worried about homophobic assholes. But Sam likes that, likes the way they’ve shifted to accommodate each other, the way they fit together so flawlessly.

He’s loved Dean since day one- when, according to Dean, anyways, he’d smiled his little toothless baby smile right as soon as Dean held him the first time- but it’s not until more recently that he’s been noticing the little things he likes best.

-

No matter what Dean says, his freckles are adorable. They were when he was a little kid in the few photos they’ve got, and they are now that he’s an adult. Sam’s come to discover that they’re not just sprinkled over the bridge of his nose and high in his cheeks, they’re _everywhere_. 

His brother doesn’t tan as well as he does, actually tends to burn more often than not, but when he spends just enough time outside, working on the car or working a case or just hanging out, Sam’s pretty sure that more of them pop up. His shoulders, his arms, the tips of his ears. 

Sam’s trying to count them. Again. They always seem to be shifting and multiplying, four popping up for every one that fades away. Dean was annoyed, the first time, a little embarrassed, but now he’s soft and warm under Sam’s hands, sleepy and compliant.

Sam’s resting on one elbow, leaning over his brother, fingertips brushing feather-light over one as he counts it. “Seventy-eight, seventy-nine…” He whispers, following the curve of Dean’s cheekbone. 

"You’re just gonna lose count again," Dean murmurs, eyes closed but apparently still awake. His voice is quiet like he doesn’t want to disturb Sam by accident.

Avoiding just that, Sam doesn’t reply. He just keeps counting.

"Ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety four…"

He makes it to the tip of Dean’s nose, one-hundred-forty-three freckles, before Dean’s fallen asleep properly and Sam decides he’ll join him. He’s got lots of time to count.

-

Dean’s eyes have always been greengreengreen, as long as Sam can remember, but it’s not until he starts seeing them up close on a regular basis and filled with love, desire, content, that he’s really able to appreciate them.

They’re green, yes, but it’s a deep, varied green, like spring meadows when he’s happy and the sky before a tornado when he’s pissed. They’re expressive, too; Dean might be one hell of a liar, but his eyes always tell the truth. Sam tries to make sure they maintain eye contact during arguments now because of this.

Of all the things Dean doesn’t like about himself- because Sam knows him well enough to know when he’s not comfortable talking about something and why- his eyes don’t actually make the list.

"Girls always tell me they like ‘em," he explains one day with a shrug. "Always used to tell me they were my best feature." He grins then, slow and mischievous. "Well, y’know, except for my di-"

Sam interrupts him with a kiss, and that’s the end of that conversation.

-

As long as Sam can remember, Dean’s eating habits have been… less than ideal. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that he has any room left to eat the second burger, the third slice of pie, but Dean always seems to manage just fine. He keeps his figure, too, which Sam attributes to all the running around they do when they’re working a job.

There’s just enough, though, the scales tipped slightly whenever they’ve got a slow period, when Dean gets a little bit of pudge, and Sam’s not sure when it happened, but he’s completely in love with it.

Dean’ll always bitch and moan and say he’ll do more push-ups, more sit-ups, but he never really goes through with it. And when Sam gets tired of hearing all that, he’ll lay Dean down in their bed and get his shirt out of the way and curl up as best he can with his cheek resting right on Dean’s tummy, and that usually quiets him down.

His brother’s usually a little soft around the edges, and Sam can’t honestly say he’s ever had a problem with that. Dean’s happy with his diet, and Sam’s happy that Dean’s happy. And if it means they get to cuddle like this, when Dean’s hands eventually find their way into Sam’s hair and they just stay quiet and enjoy each other, then he’ll even consider laying off about bugging Dean about having a salad every once in a while.

-

No matter how old Sam gets, or how much bigger, or how much stronger, Dean’s always insisted on playing the role of his big brother in every way he can.

He’s still protective. He always puts Sam first, for eating, for safety, for everything he deems remotely important. He teases, they play-fight, they go back and forth the way brothers do. If it weren’t for their relationship, Sam’s sure that Dean would still be trying to set him up with girls.

But even though it’s taken a while, and a lot of careful, gradual advancement, Sam loves the way that Dean lets him be the caretaker sometimes, too.

It’s not terribly often. When Dean gets hurt on hunts, Sam’s the one to patch him up. When he has nightmares- about Hell, about Mom or Dad or Ellen and Jo or any of the other people they’ve lost, about anything at all- Sam’s the one who’s there to hold him, to whisper that _everything’s okay, I'm here, you’re safe._

"Killed that yellow-eyed fucker," Dean mumbles, eyes squeezed shut and pressing in close to Sam. He’s pretty shameless about cuddling in this state, and Sam would probably enjoy it more if he didn’t know how distressed his brother was about it. "Killed ‘im, Sammy. Shot him dead."

"That’s right." Sam hugs Dean close, rubs his back in soothing little circles. "He’s dead, Dean. You killed him. He’s not gonna hurt anyone anymore."

Dean doesn’t usually talk about the nightmares, and Sam usually doesn’t ask. All he cares about is that Dean needs comfort, and he trusts Sam to be the one to give it to him.

-

It’s not always fear that drives them close together, though. One of the things Sam loves most about his brother is the way he’s starting to seek out affection instead of having it teased out of him.

Dean’s always been pretty reserved with being physically affectionate. Sure, they touched when they were kids, but by the time Sam was in high school, they’d drifted a little in that sense. Now, though, now that they’ve been together for some time, now that they’re comfortable together- Dean’s getting a little more open about letting himself want things.

Sam’s always more than happy to pull his brother in close in bed, to tuck Dean into his arms and spoon up behind him and just do everything he can to appreciate how close they are. But it’s the nights when Dean’s the initiator that Sam likes best.

He doesn’t make a big deal about it, just crawls into bed like usual, stretches and shifts around, then casually scoots over until he’s got his head tucked under Sam’s chin and a leg between his. Sam hides a smile in Dean’s hair, and he doesn’t say anything, either. He just wraps his arms tight around his big brother and closes his eyes and counts his blessings.

-

Dean’s a pretty simple guy at first glance. He gets pleasure out of the simple things in life- a cold beer, a good burger, a long, empty stretch of highway. It’s not hard to make him smile, but Sam finds himself trying to make it happen as often as possible, all the same.

He’s got a few different smiles that Sam’s learned to categorize. There’s the charming smile that he uses to win over women they need to talk to for cases, the one that even works on guys seven times out of ten. The strained, polite smile he uses when they’re talking to someone particularly difficult. Sam usually steps in and takes over at that point, because maybe Dean hasn’t punched a rude witness yet, but there’s a first time for everything and they’ve spent enough time on the run.

There’s a sad smile, too, the one that comes out when Dean thinks about everyone they’ve lost, everything they’ve sacrificed. Sam doesn’t like seeing that smile, and spends a lot of his time alone coming up with ways to make it shift into something happier, more genuine.

Sam’s favourite smile is the one Dean saves just for him, the one where his eyes are brimming with happiness and amusement and love. He can never quite resist the urge to walk over to his brother and find out what it tastes like.

Dean’s laughing when he pulls away, arms looped around Sam’s shoulders. “Yeah, alright,” he says, smile still in place. “Love you, too, kiddo.”

-

"Sammy?"

"Sammy, c’mon."

_"Sammy!"_

Another thing that doesn’t change, no matter how much older they get, is Dean’s insistence on using his childhood nickname. Maybe that title isn’t fair, since it’s not like Dean ever _stopped_ using it- no matter the token resistance that Sam’s put up in the past- but it always serves as something of a reminder, that Dean’s his big brother, that no matter what happens, they’ll always have that.

Like his smiles, Dean’s got lots of different versions of _Sammy._ There’s an exasperated one, one that’s filled with fear, one that’s sprinkled with laughter.

Sam can’t quite decide on a favourite, but he definitely likes the one that comes out while they’re making love.

"Ah- _fuck_ , Sammy, right there.” Sam’s spent a lot of time learning everything he can about Dean’s body, how to make him feel good, and he’s got it down to an art.

He’ll take Dean slow and gentle, hold his hands, kiss his lips, his heaving chest. Dean might tease him later about being a girl, but in the moment, neither of them care.

He slides in carefully, like always, bottoms out and drops his forehead to rest against his brother’s, one hand coming up to cup Dean’s cheek. “You okay?” he whispers, brushes his thumb over the smattering of freckles high across Dean’s cheekbone. 

Dean laughs a little, breathy, brings a hand up to smooth through Sam’s hair. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. “M’good.”

They rock together slow and easy, because they already have enough violence in their lives and this is where they’re allowed to be gentle. Their lips are locked together more often than not, and by the time they’re done, and Sam works up the ambition to wipe them both clean with a stray t-shirt, and Dean’s curled up in his arms again, they’re both sated and sleepy.

"Love you," Dean whispers, a little slurred like he’s already halfway unconscious. Sam smiles because that’s probably exactly the case. 

This, he thinks, this is what he loves most about his brother. These quiet moments when he just gets to hold Dean close and press his lips against Dean’s temple and whisper, over and over again, that, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up at allywriteswords.tumblr.com if you're interested in making a request. Thanks for reading!


End file.
